


A Confession In Flowers, A Declaration In Ink

by fowo, Madame Baroquedile (WhimsicalRealist)



Series: Strings Of Fate Set In Sandstone [11]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, I won't apologize for enjoying this AU, M/M, Probably angst at some point, Ridiculous amounts of fluff, Slice of Life, resurrecting a classic for a dear friend, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/pseuds/fowo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalRealist/pseuds/Madame%20Baroquedile
Summary: When the jeweler next door was forced into retirement and sold his shop, Crocodile absently wondered how long he would have to endure the vacancy beside his upscale tattoo parlor.But a few months later when a pink-striped awning appeared along with a hand-painted sign, he almost wished it had remained as such.





	1. Fern & Pine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fowo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/gifts).



> Doflamingo's portions are written by the wonderful Fowo, while I have taken on the role of Crocodile. This will hopefully explain the shift in styles you'll notice in this story!

Doflamingo heaved the last cardboard box to the uppermost shelf of his storage, huffing when he finally got it done. He checked his cell phone, and it was ten minutes to opening time. He grinned excitedly, stuffed his cell phone back into one of the pockets of his apron, and left the storage.

The shop was perfect. It was sunlit, that was important to him. The flowers needed it. It was airy, he liked that too. He hated small, crammy spaces. The simple, square show floor was tiled, he had painted the walls in orange and yellow, everything was bright and friendly. He loved the awning outside, throwing a little shade over the flowers displayed outside. It was white and pink, and he had painted the name of the shop—Dressrosa Flower Fields—with his hands until he was satisfied. He wasn't much of an artist so it displayed some dedication that he cared enough.

He went through the sea of flowers on the floor and the low shelves and tables, arranging one here, picking a dried leaf away there, and made his way to the street. 

  
  


Unlike many other tattoo parlors that could be found in any city across the country---boasting clip-art quality illustrations of flaming skulls on their signs and “edgy” fonts---where you could go for some quick, cheap ink and the clientele consisted primarily of bikers, drunk frat boys and wayward college girls looking for a tame way to rebel against their families, Baroque Works was a clean and upscale establishment that if you didn’t know what it was, could have mistaken it for a Victorian barber shop. And the owner, Crocodile Baroque, was most displeased to find that his new neighbor not only has a pink and white marquee that looked garish beside his shop’s gold and blacks, but it’s was a florist.

Who the hell thought _that_ was a good idea? Sure, he wasn’t a seedy establishment, but flowers belonged beside jewelry stores and chocolatiers, not tattoo parlors and certainly not his in particular. But there was nothing that could be done now, they were moved in and already had it crammed full of flowers. He’d caught a glimpse of the interior color the other day and knew he would get a headache if he ever went inside: orange and yellow!

Sighing from the corner of his shop, Crocodile was having a cigar before he officially opened for the day, eyeing Dressrosa Flowers with a wrinkled nose; seemed that today was their grand opening. He had debated going over to greet them, but decided that a man as heavily inked as himself had no business in a flower shop and he was never the type of person to be overly neighborly, anyway. So he stood in the shade and groused quietly to himself behind a veil of fragrant cigar smoke.

  
  


After carefully looking after the flowers that were in their pots outside, and carefully watching if there was someone there behind the glass windows of the neighboring tattoo parlor, Doflamingo made his way back inside to put together a little bouquet. Taking the parlor’s interior and colors into consideration -- and that was not easy, because most of the flowers in his shop had a more… uplifting color scheme -- he decided on a few yellow dandelions with a pink carnation in the middle, lined with a palm tree leaf. For now, although he was fairly sure the implications would be lost anyway, he refrained from using anything bolder.

After wrapping the small bouquet up in paper with a hum on his lips, Doflamingo left the shop again, carrying it carefully in his hands over to the other shop, ducking a little to see inside. Behind a veil of smoke, he could make out the outlines of the owner, and being grand and bold, he simply pushed open the door. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully, although the thick smoke filled his lungs instantly and he had to bite back a cough. His flowers would probably not survive too long in here… Well, too bad. He would just have to revisit constantly, wouldn’t he?

  
  


Pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the small, black iron bell jingling as his door was opened, Crocodile lifted a brow as a particularly tall blond man entered with...flowers. Blinking a few times, the pieces clicked into place and he grit his teeth on his cigar just a bit. So this was the owner of Dressrosa Flowers; not a woman, as he first suspected from his brief glimpses of a figure moving about the new shop.

Reaching up, he plucked the cigar from his mouth and set it in the ashtray on the counter beside him, allowing the smoke to clear away from his person so he could be somewhat more sociable. Arms crossed over his broad chest, he looked up---already he was annoyed at that fact---at Doflamingo with the most polite expression he could muster...which ended up making him look bored rather than approachable. “Morning,” he replied a bit gruffly. “I take it you’re from next door.”

Like his shop, Crocodile was clean-kept in finely tailored clothes, hair slicked back and long sleeves with gold cuffs and a black leather glove over his left hand. Black pinstriped pants and polished leather shoes with gold buckles completed the look along with an olive green cravat and four rings on his right hand; the ‘ring’ finger was lacking.

 

The gruff greeting threw Doflamingo off for just a second, but he adjusted quickly. “Exactly,” he said, still grinning from one side of his face to the other, and approached Crocodile behind the counter. “Since I’m new, I thought it would only be appropriate I introduce myself, since I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often now.” Taking the bouquet carefully into the bend of his left arm, he reached out with his right hand, grinning widely. “The name’s Donquixote Doflamingo. Pleased to meet you.”

 

Seeing each other more often? Oh, he certainly hoped not...but he reached out and took Doflamingo’s hand firmly, giving it a brief shake. “Likewise, I’m sure. My name is Crocodile.” The look that followed dared the other to say so much as a word concerning his name. “I had meant to visit, myself, but seeing as it’s your opening day, I imagined you would be far too busy.”

 

“You overestimate the average business day of a flower shop,” Doflamingo chuckled. “I’m sure someone will come by, but certainly not at 10am sharp.” Grinning at Crocodile and allowing himself a thorough gander, he finally held out the bouquet. “These are a little gift. It’s nothing much, really… I tried to match them a little to your parlor, but I’m not sure I succeeded.” He laughed a little to himself, pushing back a loose strand of hair from his forehead. “I hope you like them anyway. To good business.” He looked around the beautiful, but sterile shop front and chuckled to himself. “Should I have brought a vase?”

 

Crocodile looked at the flowers as if he had never seen colorful plants at any point in his life before that moment, not the type of person anyone would gift that sort of thing to, let alone by another man. But a gift was still a gift, after all, and he was not the sort to snub such an offering. So he sighed heavily and accepted the bouquet and nodded. “They match well enough, but I don’t have anything to put them in, no. If I could borrow a vase, I’d return it once these have died,” he offered, showing at least a willingness to endure their presence. Looking from Doflamingo to the flowers, he puzzled a bit over the contents of the bouquet. They yellow matched well enough, but the single pink flower certainly stood out...not unlike the florist, he supposed.

 

“Fufufu, you’re an optimistic person, I see.” Doflamingo watched Crocodile take the bouquet, finding the man’s seemingly irritated attitude more amusing than anything else. “But I guess that’s just the beauty of flowers, isn’t it… Knowing they will only be beautiful for a while before they rot. Personally, I do like the notion.” Pushing his hands into the front pocket of his pink hoodie, Doflamingo grinned as he turned around. “Be right back,” he said, halfway out of the parlor already to go get a vase from his shop.

 

Briefly, Crocodile debated locking his door behind the blond after he departed, but decided against it; little good could come from making a bad impression on his new neighbor right out of the gate. No, he’d rather be civil with the younger man, as much as was possible, anyway. They  _were_ nice flowers, at any rate, and it was a thoughtful gesture he could at the very least appreciate respectfully. So there he stood, holding a bouquet of flowers while leaning against the counter and waited for Doflamingo to return with a vase.

 

Doflamingo hurried to find a simple, but nice looking vase to return to Crocodile with. Halting on the street, he took a moment to look around. While it was a nicer part of town -- in his mind, certainly more fitting for a flower shop than a tattoo parlor, although Baroque Works  _ did _ look nice -- it wasn’t exactly a shopping site, and he suspected the low rent of his shop was a sign of that. Oh well… this was more of a hobby than a real job, anyway. Snapping out of it, he entered Crocodile’s parlor again, gently setting the glass vase down on the counter. “Keep it,” he said with a grin. “I should have considered the lack of vase. Think of it as a freebie. Now you have a vase you need to put flowers in!”

 

At least it was a simple glass vase, it wouldn’t be an eyesore...Crocodile bit back a sigh and offered a slight smile, carefully arranging the flowers into the vase. “A thoughtful gesture...it should certainly give the parlor a bit more life, I suppose. And just my luck: I’m right next door to a florist for when I need more.” Turning to face the younger man again, he looked a touch thoughtful. “Is this your first time here in the city? I don’t really go out much, so I can’t say if I’ve seen you around before or not, but you seem the type that stands out and I’ve never heard your name before.”

 

Leaning forward a little as he took over on arranging the flowers in their vase as if it was his own shop and he was not just a guest, Doflamingo chuckled a little. “Oh, so you would notice this sort of thing, then?” he said, voice changing just half a note into what might be considered a flirtatious purr. “As a matter of fact, I _did_ just move here… Just a couple of streets away.” Straightening up again, he flashed Crocodile a grin, baring two rows of perfectly white teeth. “I’ve not really met anyone else. The last weeks I’ve done not much but preparing the shop. Maybe you can show me around the neighborhood someday?”

 

A brow lifted at the change in Doflamingo’s voice and his flash of teeth earned only a snort from the man as he recrossed his arms over his chest. “What an odd suggestion to make to the man who just told you doesn’t get out much. I’m more than certain you’ll be able to find your way around just fine, or at the very least you’ll be flocked with young women eager to do so, themselves. A cutesy flower shop, a blond guy running it? Simple math, really. Besides, it’s bad enough you’re next door, I can barely stand to imagine what the old folks would mutter about you if they spotted you in ‘cahoots’ with the likes of me.”

 

“Oh?” Doflamingo chuckled a little to himself. “Worried about that, are we? Well.  I’m sure there  _ will _ be enough young women flocking my shop eventually, won’t there… So maybe  _ I _ should take you out one day to show you around.” 

 

Crocodile rolled his eyes at the offer. “Oh, I’m not worried, my reputation is already set in stone here,  _ you’re _ new. But honestly, show  _ me _ around? Thanks, but I’ll have to pass. It’s not for lack of effort or time that I don’t get out, I choose not to.” It was probably going over the man’s head that Doflamingo was trying to be flirtatious, shrugging it off as minor annoyance as he picked up the neatly arranged vase of flowers and moved it someplace it was less likely to be knocked over. The far end of the counter worked just fine and it seemed it would get a little bit of sunlight there. “Well, this has been pleasant and all, but don’t you have a store to run? It would be in bad taste if your first customers came and you were next door chatting up the scary tattoo artist.”

 

“Scary? Hardly…” Doflamingo chuckled as he made his way back to the door. “Fair enough, I suppose. I’ll be seeing you around anyway, right?” He paused, door in hand. “Crocodile, was it? Well, come on over if you’re on break or bored or whatever, I would be  _ enthralled _ .” Doflamingo’s way to speak and stress words was easy to misinterpret as oozing sarcasm, and his lilt certainly didn’t help his case. But he made sure Crocodile met his gaze before he left, flashing him another wide grin with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. 

 

What a ridiculous suggestion...come over to visit a flower shop when he was ‘bored or whatever’? Crocodile could think of a thousand things he could do in such a situation and visiting Doflamingo did not even remotely make the list. Something about that look in the blond’s eyes, however, left him lifting a brow as the other made his exit. So before he could stop himself, bemused words fell from his lips he was sure he would regret later. “Yeah, sure, why not. Maybe even grab lunch if our breaks line up.” In his case, he was certain it was sarcasm because why in the hell would he ever offer to get lunch with an obnoxious, young florist? _Honestly_.


	2. Clarkia & Blue Periwinkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After only a few days, Crocodile has seemed to accept---even embrace---his new neighbor and the flowers he brings to him every day.
> 
> Doflamingo wonders where the previous day's bouquets vanish to, but brings new ones if only to have an excuse to stop by.
> 
> But after a particularly busy day preparing for a wedding, Doflamingo brings his usual offering...and receives a surprise in return.

The next few days went by similarly: Doflamingo would show up in Crocodile’s tattoo parlor every morning, sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but every day without fault. And he would bring a new bouquet of flowers; sometimes more opulent, sometimes a little modest, but always colorful and pretty. He would leave them without asking where the others had gone to, because the flowers from the day before were always gone by the time he showed up. He would try to make idle chit-chat with Crocodile, asking him stuff about whatever came to his mind, from tattooing (“So does it hurt? How much do you charge? Have you ever tattooed someone’s junk? How many boobs do you see on an average day?”) to all sorts of personal stuff (“So what kind of name is Crocodile, anyway? You have a girlfriend? No? How do you  _ like _ your girlfriends, generally speaking? What’s with your weirdo left hand?”) to whatever came to mind (“Cigars, _honestly_? You know your coat makes you look like a 40’s mafia boss, right? So who’s the black-haired hottie I see coming here sometimes?“)

It had been a Saturday afternoon shops when it happened. There hadn’t been many customers, but Doflamingo had spent most of his day making an arrangement of small bouquets and table decorations for a wedding that was due the next day,so he didn’t get the chance to go over as early as he usually did. By the time he was able to throw together a few selected flowers for Crocodile, it was almost time for closing, but he wanted to make sure he did it anyway. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, pushing open the door to the parlor with his hip. “Well, I suppose this way these little beauties here will survive until Monday without problems. Had a lot to do today?”

 

Looking up from where he stood at the counter---going over the day’s logs, double checking the numbers and making sure his next appointments weren’t until Monday---Crocodile was almost surprised to see the blond this late in the day. He figured something had kept Doflamingo busy, which only made sense this time of year, and shrugged it off. But there he was, sauntering in with his latest offering of flowers right before closing. A brow lifted but he gave a snort of amusement all the same, gesturing toward the spot on the counter with the waiting, empty vase.

“Such terrible service, I’ve had an empty vase sitting here  _ all day _ with nothing to put in it, my customers were horribly offended and one even refused to be worked on altogether,” he teased, arms crossing over his chest. “But no, we were fairly slow for a Friday. A few touch-ups, consultations, and did a bit more on a fairly extensive back piece. Quite fond of this one, it’s a ghost ship in a storm being torn apart by a kraken. You, on the other hand,  _ must _ have been swamped if you couldn’t be bothered to bother me earlier in the day.”

 

“Wedding season is starting. That and Christmas are always the busiest.” Doflamingo walked over to the counter and placed the flowers in the vase, carefully arranging them. By now he wasn’t even bothering anymore with the paper around them, knowing Crocodile had the empty vase waiting. He always wondered a little where the bouquet from the day before might be… even the most vulnerable of flowers lasted at least a day. Maybe Crocodile was throwing them away? But he didn’t bother with telling him to stop bringing new ones in, so for now, Doflamingo was content to keep this up and have a reason to walk in every day. “Sorry to hear about your loss,” he said cheerfully, picking out a yellow leaf from one of the greens. “Should I offer you to do a piece on my virgin skin in return? I hear tattoo artists are all over getting to work on untattooed skin.”

 

“Ugh, and be forced to listen to you bitch and moan for several hours at a time? Absolutely not, I’d sooner just turn you over to Moriah,” Crocodile snorted, taking a moment to look over the latest offering of flowers. “Though I imagine Perona’s work might be better suited. We could set you up with a precious little unicorn.” 

“Wah! Don’t make fun of my art, you sandy old fart!” a girl whined from somewhere in the back room, earning a distasteful scowl from the owner but he shrugged it off. 

“That said, I’m just about done here and if I’m not mistaken, so are you.” Closing his books and tucking it away into a secured cabinet beneath the counter, he stepped around it to join the younger out on the main floor. “If you’re not in a hurry to get home from your pollen dungeon, I’m heading out to a local place for dinner. May as well get your dose of annoyance in before we hit the weekend, hm?”

 

Doflamingo had been prepared to just leave it at that and be gone for the weekend, but when Crocodile stepped around the counter beside him and invited him to dinner, he actually jumped a little. “What,” he said, dumbfounded, shoving his sunglasses up into his hair to blink at Crocodile. “Wait,” he added, struggling to even string together the words. “Are you… Wait, are you asking me out? Or, well, I mean… Not like a _date_ , right? ... Or like a date? I mean, look at what I’m wearing…” he laughed a little, gesturing at the stained apron he was wearing over a simple jeans and shirt. “Help me out here, I’m confused right now.”

 

Crocodile more or less stared at Doflamingo for a long moment before snorting with a roll of his eyes. “Doflamingo, it’s food,” he sighed, shaking his head as he nodded toward Daz before moving to the door, opening it and gesturing for the young blond to exit. “From a local mom-and-pop place down the street, no less. Dates require planning, eating requires being hungry. You don’t have to go if you’re so worried about the state of your apron, but honestly, I imagine the Mallozzi family has seen worse.”

 

While it wasn’t exactly the answer he had hoped for, seeing Crocodile walk past him and out of the parlor, Doflamingo was more than happy to follow. “Well,” he said, catching up to him and opening the knot of the apron on his back to fold it up and push it into his back pocket as well as he could. “It’s good enough for me. Had I known, I would  _ definitely _  have planned ahead… but it’s nice to see you so spontaneous!” He chuckled a little to himself, hooking the sunglasses into his collar for safekeeping as he watched Crocodile with a grin. “I think I could get used to this.”

 

Crocodile could only groan internally at the whole affair at this point, leading the way with the overly-eager Doflamingo following beside him. “You are reading into things that are not there, you zealous brat,” he grumbled, rolling his sleeves down to cover his arms as he walked at a leisurely pace. “I’m hungry, there’s nothing spontaneous about that. And if I’d known you’d make such a big deal about me offering you to accompany me, I’d have just gone alone and saved myself the headache.” Glancing over at the younger blond, he smirked a bit. “It was either this or letting you build up three days worth of questions I’m not going to answer on Monday, I’m just keeping my peace of mind in mind.”

 

“Just a few weeks ago you were pretty sure you’d  _ never _ go out with me, that’s all.” Doflamingo watched intently when Crocodile rolled down his sleeves, a little sad to see his tattoos vanish under the fine fabric of his clothes. But he grinned down at him anyway as they walked side by side. Considering he had a complete shop worth of employees he could have asked—including that bald fellow Doflamingo had grown to hate in just a few days by how fond Crocodile looked at him, apparently genuinely liking him—he was happy Crocodile had asked him, and not any of them. The reason, for now, didn’t matter much. What mattered was that Doflamingo got what he wanted…. and already he found himself wanting a little bit more. And apparently, in this case, patience was what was needed. He could do patience. Oh, how he could do patience…

 

“I’m _not_ going out with you, I’m going to have some food at a place I like and I asked you along,” Crocodile corrected Doflamingo, splitting hairs and probably beating a dead horse since the blond already had his own ideas. Waving a hand dismissively, he was done with trying to make any further headway in the matter, he just wanted his dinner and there was no sense causing a scene before he even got to the restaurant. “Anyway, this place is all but straight out of Italy, so let me know if anything on the menu needs explaining.”

 

“I’m sure I can handle a little Italian, my Spanish is pretty good. And if not, you’re here to help, right? Or maybe I should put all my trust in you and have you order me something…might be exciting.” He was still grinning like an idiot as he followed Crocodile along the road down to the little restaurant. He had actually seen it already on his way to and from work, but never paid it many thoughts. Usually after a busy work day, he ended up grabbing a meal with his own employees, or heading back home and just grabbing take-out. He was utterly hopeless when it came to all things cooking, and basically only used the kitchen for the coffee machine and microwave if he ever get lost in this part of his flat. So being taken to a restaurant, no matter what  _ Crocodile _ said, was actually a nice change of pace. 

“So,” he said finally, set to get as much information about Crocodile out of him as he could as long as this rare, good mood lasted. “You’re Italian? You don’t really look the part… Although I assume the nice clothes might be a giveaway, but anyone can wear Italian brands, I guess…”

 

“What? Oh, tell me you don’t feed into stereotypes,” Crocodile scoffed, pausing to glance at Doflamingo; Spanish, hm? He had wondered a bit about where the other hailed from, after all. Not that he would admit to such curiosity, it would only be a victory for the blond to rub in his face. “Do you want me to put on a mustache and sing about the moon? Somaro...if you must know, I’m from Sicily. My parents moved us over after my nonna passed away, I believe I was ten? So forgive me for not having a thick accent, if any.”

 

“I think I would pay you to see that,” Doflamingo laughed. “But don’t worry, you blend in quite well. I would’ve never brought it up. But I think now I _will_ have to insist you invite me over for a good espresso and home-made pizza. Poor old me only knows what he can get over here, and now you made me curious. Or is that too stereotypical for you and you can’t even make pizza? I wouldn’t blame you. I certainly can’t cook paella, even with a gun to my head.” He sniffed a little. “Wish I could, though… the one my mom used to make was the best.”

 

“Then learn,” Crocodile offered with a shrug, nearing the restaurant with its friendly window sign and small tables outside with umbrellas over them; seeing as it was a nice day, he intended to ask for one of these to sit at. “Cooking just takes time and practice. Besides, with how you do with flowers, I’m sure you’d have a good eye for it. And if I ever had a moment of insanity that would lead to inviting you over to my apartment, it would only be in good manners to make sure you had something to eat. That’s the general rule, regardless of culture, just stands that some are more insistent about it than others.”

 

Doflamingo was still wondering if that might have been an actual compliment when they were seated. He couldn’t even come up with a clever remark and just stared at the menu for a while before he remembered that this might just be his one chance in a while to have a real conversation with Crocodile, and he wanted to make it count. “So, err,” he said eventually, squinting as he stared at the tiny letters that offered a small but selected menu of foods, rummaging his brains for some spare Italian and Latin to piece together the words. “Anything you can recommend? Seems like a waste to just order pizza…I like seafood, if that matters.”

 

“The pizza  _ is _ good but I save that for when I’m ordering for everyone in the shop,” Crocodile agreed after he had settled into his seat and nodded politely to the waitress who was tending a table inside, smiling as she recognized him. “But seafood, hm? Let’s see. There’s the cioppino, puttanesca if you have a taste for anchovies, calamari of course, tilapia scaloppine, and I believe several different pastas that have some sort of seafood in them as well.” He didn’t even need to look at the menu, having been enough times to have it more or less memorized.

 

“ _ Riiight _ ,” Doflamingo said, stretching the word like gum as he filed through the menu, trying to find whatever Crocodile had listed. “Well, I’m a man of simple pleasures, so I think pasta might actually make me happy enough for tonight.” Not that he couldn’t think of  _ several _ ways his night was going to be better, but that had hardly anything to do with food. “And dessert, of course. I always leave room for dessert. The most important meal of the day.”

 

“How is that not surprising…” Crocodile drawled, shaking his head a bit; he personally didn’t care for desserts, not refusing them when they were offered in kindness but not going out of his way for them at the same time. “But that’s fine, I tend to get an after-dinner coffee, anyway. Since you’re going with pasta, I’ll recommend the shrimp alfredo.” And a few moments later they were greeted by an excited young woman speaking Italian fluently toward the raven-haired man, to which he replied in kind with a charming smile; she was the youngest of the owner’s daughters and certainly the most bubbly. “Bevande?” and Crocodile nodded. “Acqua, per favore.” Gesturing toward Doflamingo, he wasn’t one to order for someone else unless requested. “Drink?”

 

“Water will do,” Doflamingo said with a slight nod. It was fascinating to him to watch Crocodile like this; he certainly didn’t behave like this around him. Had Doflamingo been any less optimistic and full of himself, he might just have been disheartened by it, taking it as a sign that Crocodile really wasn’t interested. But he wasn’t, and so only enjoyed to learn about this new side, thinking how exciting all of this was. “Well, wasn’t that young lady just all over you,” he said with a chuckle when the waitress had left them again. “I should be jealous.”

 

An eyebrow lifted at the comment and Crocodile could only snort at the idea. “She’s a sweetheart, don’t talk like that about her or I’ll have to ask you to get lost,” he warned Doflamingo politely enough, but left no room to hint that he wasn’t being serious. “Not to mention her being a highschooler and I certainly have no intention of courting someone so young. So no, you’ve nothing to be jealous of, not that I’d understand  _ why _ even if you were in the first place.”

 

“Fufufufu, ah yes, no sense of humor whatsoever, I remember.” Doflamingo leaned back in his chair, playing a little with the hem of the table cloth. “Well, and you would understand, I imagine, were you not so delirious.” He looked up again, taking the sunglasses from his shirt and folded them neatly to put them down on the table. He smiled at Crocodile as he pushed his hand through his hair and down to his neck, leaving it there to prop his head into as he leaned forward again. “But don’t worry, for now, I find it to be more amusing than frustrating.”

  
Crocodile snorted, putting on a more pleasant expression briefly as their waitress returned to bring them their water and a basket of freshly baked dinner rolls, slipping off to tend her other tables and giving them more time to decide on what they wanted to order. “Oh it’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor, it’s you who can’t tell a joke worth laughing over,” he countered with a smug grin, lifting his glass to take a sip. "Not that it seems to be discouraging you from trying."

Despite his teasing, the older man was somehow enjoying himself with company. He had become so used to dining alone that it was a breath of fresh air to be having a conversation, even if it _was_ Doflamingo. It had been a spontaneous decision to offer, after all, and he had half expected to hate every moment of it after the words had slipped from his mouth...yet here they were, and he didn't even have a remote desire to throw his water in the brat's face. Crocodile wasn't sure how he should feel about that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a little bit of a pause after this chapter, as this is all we had originally written together! Hopefully we will be able to start writing for this story again soon, but if not, I will see if I can do Doflamingo some justice and take on both roles to finish things out.
> 
> Thank you for reading so far <3

**Author's Note:**

> When I went to look at my Google Docs, I found this gem sitting there unfinished and re-read what Fowo and I had written and it filled me with a decent dose of nostalgia. So, as a surprise gift to her, I decided to post it here and hopefully pick it back up where we left off.
> 
> So, if you're reading this, Fo: <3 Surprise!


End file.
